Date: Thu, 23 Aug 2012 00:50:07 -0400 (EDT)
From: ErastesTouch@aol.com
Subject: A Throw Away Kid, chapter 17
Throw Away Kid - by Erastes
Copyright 2012 by Erastes
Chapter 17 – Healing Time.
I raced out of my office and told my secretary I had to leave and didn't
know when I'd be back. She just accepted that and told me to take
whatever time I needed, before I bolted out the door, headed to my car
and sped off for home. What I didn't realize was that DSS and the
police had arrived at residence even before my lawyer had called me, so
they were already inside.
From what I learned later, I guess Bryce had been on the computer I
had set up in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs when they arrived. He
was doing his class work, but he had left the television on downstairs
after watching one of those educational programs I had assigned. For
that reason, he didn't hear their vehicles pull into the driveway, but he
did hear them when they began pounding on the door and then someone
yelled.
"Police, open up. We have a warrant!"
Hearing this, Bryce jumped up, looked out the window and saw the
police cars in the driveway. He was beginning to panic when he heard
them smash the front door in with the weighted battering ram they
carried with them for this purpose. When he heard this, he panicked
even more and pulled a typical kid move. He dove under the bed to
hide. He had no idea what was happening, although he just assumed
the police were after him, so he felt he had to hide. Unfortunately, this
was the best idea he could come up with on such short notice and in
such a rattled state.
By this time, he could hear people moving about the house and yelling
words like 'clear' every so often, and then he heard people come
upstairs. A few seconds later, he saw a pair of black boots move past
the bed and walk over to the computer, which was still on, and then the
guy moved to the other side of the bed, knelt down and discovered
Bryce underneath. The man reached under the bed to grab him and
Bryce slid out on the other side, got up and bolted for the stairs. When
Bryce did this, the guy stood up and ran around the bed after him.
Bryce thought he might be able to race down the stairs and get out of
the house before they could catch him, and then he planned to find
someplace to hide in the neighborhood for a while. He thought maybe
he could even make his way to the factory and stay there until things
died down, but unfortunately a DSS man was in the hallway. He
reached out and grabbed a hold of Bryce's shirt as he sped past and was
able to stop him.
This caused Bryce to panic even more and he fought to pull free of this
man's grip. Bryce wasn't that far away from the top of the stairs at the
time, so he thought that if he could get free, then he could race down the
steps and probably get out of the house before anyone else could stop
him. Not knowing what else to do, he swung one of his arms down
across the piece of his shirt the guy was holding and this caused the man
to lose his grip on it. The problem was, it also caused Bryce to lose his
balance, and so the next thing that happened was that he began to fall
toward the stairs... and then down them.
His body looked as if it were a rag doll, as it rolled from step to step.
His arms and legs were flopping limply about, as his body somersaulted
down the entire flight of steps. When his small body hit the landing at
the bottom, Bryce landed very hard and his head cracked against the
hard floor. The sound everyone heard when this happened was a
sickening dull 'thud,' and his battered and bruised body was lying,
motionless, in a very contorted heap.
I happened to arrive home and burst through the door just as that was
happening, so I saw him tumble down the stairs. I couldn't believe what
I had witnessed, but now he was lying sprawled out on the floor of the
foyer, without showing any signs of movement. His slender frame was
limp and unmoving, so I flew to his side to see if he was still alive and
what I could do to help. Before I could reach him though, I was stopped
by two police officers. Although I insisted that I needed to help Bryce,
because he was injured, they continued to prevent me from doing so.
"Let me go! I need to help him," I kept insisting.
"The other officers will see to the boy," one of the cops advised me,
"and you'd be better off trying to help yourself, at this point."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded.
"You've been hiding a runaway minor and aiding and abetting his
efforts, so you're in a major legal mess right now," he told me. "You'd
be best to consider what you're going to do about that."
"The hell with that shit right now!" I challenged. "We have to get him
to the hospital. Has anyone called 911 or radioed in for help?"
"We've radioed for an ambulance and one is on the way," he said,
drolly.
"How the hell did this happen?" I wanted to know.
One of the officers gave me an abbreviated version of what had taken
place and pointed out the DSS man who had grabbed Bryce's shirt
before he fell. The DSS man heard the cop telling me this, so I guess
that's why he walked forward to confront me.
"Do you realize this is all your fault?" he asked me.
"My fault? How the hell do you figure this is my fault?" I shot back.
"Well, if you'd turned him over to us when you first ran across him,
nothing like this would have ever happened," he insisted.
"No, he'd probably be dead by now," I spat back, defying his
accusation. "When he was under your care, he was taken advantage of,
physically abused and sexually molested."
"I don't believe a word of that and your allegations are totally
unfounded," he insisted.
"Are they? I have detailed notes about what Bryce endured during his
time in foster care," I informed him, "and I've documented neglect,
physical beatings and his being forced into prostituting himself by one
of his so-called foster parents."
"That's nonsense!" the man shouted back.
"It's not nonsense and we have statements and other materials to prove
it, but this isn't the time or the place to discuss that," I stated, while
looking toward Bryce. "We have to get the boy medical attention.
Where the hell is the ambulance?"
About that time we heard the rescue squad's siren in the distance, so I
knew they were getting close. Just before the ambulance crew rushed in
to attend to Bryce, my lawyer walked past the broken door and came
inside. He had the officers release me, so we could move to the side and
talk, and he advised me about what to do and how to act from this point
on. However, I was trying to see what was they were doing for Bryce
and trying to listen to the EMTs, instead of my attorney. It's also when
I heard the DSS guy tell them to take Bryce to County Hospital.
"No way!" I screamed out. "He's not going to that overworked slum
hospital. You have him taken to St. Luke's Hospital instead."
"The county won't pay for that," the DSS rep told me. "He will get just
as good care at County."
"Like hell," I objected. "I wouldn't even go there for minor treatment,
let alone anything this serious. You have him taken to St. Luke's and
I'll cover the bill."
"We can't allow that," he replied.
"Listen, you bureaucratic mental midget. Not only will you do it, but
you'll also be happy to do so," I informed him. "I'm telling you right
now, if anything happens to that kid, my lawyer and my friend, who
holds all of the information about how Bryce has been handled by DSS
and their representatives, will turn all the information over to the press.
"Mark my words," I continued, "because it won't be the local paper
either. We will start with the New York Times, but we'll also give it to
Time and Newsweek, along with the major television networks. By the
time the dust settles from that intense exposure, not only won't you and
your superiors be able to get a job in THIS state, but you'll also be
lucky if you can secure a job in your field in ANY state. Not only that,
but I'll personally sue you, the department and the State for damages,
not only to my home, but also for Bryce's injuries, including punitive
damages."
"You're bluffing," he replied.
"Try me, asshole. I didn't build my business from the ground up and
make my fortune by bluffing or by not being able to follow through on
my threats," I informed him. "It you think it's a bluff, call me on it, but
you'll be the one to suffer the consequences from the fallout, not me."
The guy stood and glared at me for several seconds and everyone in the
room could tell he hated the fact that I was interfering with his official
duties, plus he probably hated me on a more personal level as well, but I
didn't want to give in. He also was fairly certain I had him, and his
department, by the 'nads, so after a slight, uneasy delay, he turned to
the ambulance crew and spoke.
"Take him to St. Luke's then, but make sure you tell them the bill goes
in this guy's name and not the county's," he informed them. "I'll clear
it later with my superiors."
After making that announcement and having had to back down in front
of everyone else that was here, the guy was totally red-faced. It could
have been from anger or embarrassment, but he spun around and took
off, although he stopped long enough to ask one of the policemen to
drive him back to his office, since he had ridden with them from the
courthouse. One of the other officers then announced that I was under
arrest and began to read me my rights. That's when my attorney
stepped in to assist me. He told them that I'd cooperate fully, once the
boy was out of danger, and he'd guarantee that I'd turn myself in, after
I was certain the boy was being treated.
The officer wasn't sure what to do at this point, so he radioed the
station and discussed it with his Sgt. I guess his superior must have
authorized our plan, but only if I agreed to come to the station at my
earliest possible convenience to be fingerprinted and booked. Again, my
lawyer vouched for me and promised he would see to it that I would do
this. Once that was settled, they allowed my lawyer to drive me in his
car to the hospital, as we followed the rescue vehicle. Finally, we were
on our way to St. Luke's, so we could get Bryce the treatment he
needed.
By the time they were able to stabilize Bryce in the emergency room, I
was a nervous wreck. I hadn't been allowed to be in with him, since I
wasn't related, even though I was paying the damn bill. Once he was
stabilized, they moved him to the juvenile intensive care ward, but it
had already been over two hours since the accident. I pleaded to be able
to go in and sit with him, but the hospital staff wasn't about to allow me
to do that, since I wasn't a relative. Finally, I got the DSS caseworker
on the phone and talked him in to authorizing the hospital to allow me
to do this, since DSS was technically Bryce's legal guardians. After I
also explained to them that I was also paying all of the bills, so if they
didn't want to have to wait for their money they'd allow this, so
eventually they relented and I was shown in.
I was heartsick and even became slightly physically ill when I saw him.
His face was bruised and swollen, his body was discolored and covered
with scrapes, his left arm and right leg were in casts, and he was still
unconscious. There seemed to be all kinds of tubes running into him
and he was also hooked up to several monitors. I walked over to his
right side, kissed him on the forehead and then I took his right hand
and held it between my own hands, before I sat in the chair that was
located beside the bed.
I suddenly felt as if I was going to vomit, so I rushed into the bathroom
in the room. I ended up retching and expelling some bile and other
contents from my stomach, and then I rinsed out my mouth and
splashed water on my face, before I went back to his bedside. As I sat
down beside him again, tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks,
before gently dropping onto our cupped hands and the bedding. He
looked so frail and helpless, not like the boy who had taken care of
himself for so long, and I bowed my head to pray that he would come
through this without permanent harm.
I never thought at the time about my lawyer being there with us and
watching my every move, but he was and he noticed how much Bryce
meant to me. After twenty or thirty minutes, he came over to me,
placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke.
"I can see how much you care for this boy, Kyle, just like a father
watching over his child," he began. "Although I knew you wanted him
to stay with you, I didn't realize at the time how deeply you cared for
the boy or how attached you had become. I promise that I will do
everything within my power to keep you two together, as a family unit.
"I also know how much you want to continue to stay here with him," he
continued, "but I promised the police we'd stop by the station, so you
could be fingerprinted and booked. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get
you released on your own recognizance, but we'd better leave and get
this over with. Then you'll be able to come back here and stay with the
boy for as long as you want."
"Won't they lock me up for the night?" I asked.
"No, I'll make sure they take care of this quickly," he assured me. "I'll
get you arraigned immediately, even if I have to call the judge and
arrange it myself. Fortunately for you, I spend a few years dealing with
criminal law, before I decided to switch over to dealing with family
court matters."
"Ok, I guess we could go, as long as I'll be able to come back," I
concurred. "Do you think I might be able to speak to his doctor before I
leave?"
He looked at me and nodded.
"All right, I'll go find him and bring him back to speak with you, so you
may stay with the boy until I get back," he agreed.
I thanked him and he left the room. I thought I should take advantage
of my time alone with Bryce, so I bent over him, placed my mouth next
to his head and whispered into his ear.
"Bryce, I'm here for you, but I may have to leave for just a little while,"
I told him, my voice choking up with emotion. "I will be back, but I
want you to keep fighting to get better while I'm gone. I can't lose you
now, because you mean too much to me and I love you so very much. I
need you in my life, so I'll make you a promise. If you'll fight and get
better, then I'll do whatever you want when we get back home. I'm
sure I know what you want, and yes, I'll even do that. Just get better
and I'll do anything to make you happy."
At that point, I lost it completely and began to weep. No, I didn't weep,
I began sobbing and my stomach began to retch, like I needed to vomit
again. I ran back to the toilet and expelled some more bile into the
commode, and then I rinsed out my mouth again and wiped it off. It
took a few more seconds for me to get my stomach under control again,
and then I walked back to his room and over to his bed again.
When I got there, I placed my head on his shoulder, because I wanted to
show him how much I truly cared about him. I also wanted to touch
him in a loving way, but this was the best I could do with the possibility
of others entering the room at any second. We were like that when the
door to the room opened and the doctor and my attorney entered.
"You must be the boy's father," he stated, extending his hand to me in
the process.
"Not yet, but I hope to be," I responded, which caused the doctor to give
me a confused look.
"I'm fighting with DSS to become his guardian," I offered, to end his
confusion.
"And he's also paying the bills and was authorized by DSS to see to the
boy's medical treatment and be in here with him?" my lawyer added, to
bolster my claim.
"Well, then what may I do to help?" the doctor asked.
"Can you tell me about his condition?" I followed.
"Yes, of course," he replied. "The boy suffered multiple scrapes and
bruises, but he also sustained two fractures. He also has a concussion
and some swelling around his brain, which is the reason why he hasn't
regained consciousness yet. We've relieved some of the pressure, but
we're also trying to get the intra-cranial swelling under control, so he'll
most likely remain in critical condition until that happens."
"Will he be all right?" I asked next, seeking reassurance.
"That depends on many things," the doctor stated. "I can't give you
any guarantees, but I will do my best to help him pull through."
"Well, don't spare any expense," I ordered. "I want you to bring in the
finest specialists, as well as whomever or whatever else you think is
appropriate. I don't want you to leave any option unexplored. Do I
make myself clear?"
"Extremely clear, sir," he responded.
"Thank you. I have to leave for a while, but I shall return," I informed
him. "I want you to do whatever is necessary to make him better and I
will cover any and all expenses, so you don't have to worry about that.
Do you have any questions?"
"None, sir, and I'll do my absolute best," he promised.
I then left the hospital with my lawyer and he drove me over to the
police station, where they took me into a special area to be fingerprinted
and booked. It was a humiliating experience. To begin with, one of the
cops put this black ink on a pad with a roller, put my fingers in it one at
a time and then they transferred the prints onto a special card. After
the officer did each finger individually, he did them as a group, before
he moved on to the other hand.
Once the fingerprinting process was completed, I had to have the typical
mug shots taken, both the front and side poses, and then I had to sign
some paperwork, but not before my lawyer went over each of them first.
After that process was completed, I was allowed to sit in a private room
with my attorney, while we waited for the arraignment.
It seemed as if it took an eternity before anything else happened, but we
were finally taken before the judge, where I pleaded 'not guilty.' After
hearing a motion from my attorney, I was given ROR (released own
recognizance), which meant I didn't have to put up any bail or spend
the night in jail. Once that process was finished, my lawyer drove me
home, so I could pick up my own car and then return to the hospital. I
thanked him for all of his help and then went inside the house and
grabbed a couple of items, before I drove back to sit with Bryce.
It didn't seem as if his condition had improved any while I was away, so
I moved the basic, reclining-type chair into position beside his bed and
made myself comfortable, as I held his hand and stroked his hair. I
talked to him the entire time I was doing this and tried to encourage
him to come back to me. I also reaffirmed the promise I had made to
him earlier, since I hoped that might make him fight harder and help to
speed up the recovery process. No matter what it took, I would do
anything to urge him to get better.
After a couple of hours of sitting with him like this, I got up and took a
short walk to stretch my stiff muscles and buy a cup of coffee from one
of the vending machines. I wasn't gone for very long, but when I
returned the doctor and nurses were working on Bryce again. I had no
idea what had happened or what they were doing, but I was very scared
as I stood in the doorway and watched them. I tried to inquire about
what was happening, but I was only told that the swelling in his brain
had increased and was threatening his life. I almost collapsed after
hearing that information, but I stayed upright, although I did manage
to spill some of my coffee when my knees buckled. I felt this sinking
feeling in the pit of my stomach, because I suddenly had these horrific
visions that he wasn't going to get better. My knees went weak once
more and I'm not sure how I managed to remain standing, but I did.
After that happened, one of the nurses asked me to go to the waiting
room and stay there until Bryce's condition had been stabilized.
I don't remember walking there or even entering the room, but I do
remember sitting in a chair, closing my eyes and praying like I've never
prayed before. I'm not an overly religious person and I'm not a fan of
organized religion, because I think much of it is corrupt and self-
serving, but I do believe in God and his power. Therefore, I beseeched
him to intercede on Bryce's behalf and bring him back to health. I must
have prayed the entire time I was sitting in the waiting room, because I
don't remember doing anything else during that time. I have absolutely
no idea how long I was in there, but I do know I was still praying when
a nurse came in to get me later.
"Mr. Loomis," she paged, as she startled me from my thoughts, "the
boy's condition has stabilized and you may go back to his room."
I thanked her and returned to see Bryce, only to find two doctors
standing beside him. There was the doctor I had spoken to earlier, as
well as another, but now Bryce's head was now wrapped in a white,
gauze bandage.
"What happened?" I asked, gravely concerned.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Johnston, the neurosurgeon," the other doctor announced.
"The monitors signaled a problem with pressure building on the boy's
brain, so we had to rush him into emergency surgery. It was a fairly
standard procedure to drain the fluids that were building around his
brain, so we were able to alleviate the pressure that was building inside
his cranium. He seems to be doing better now, but he's still not out of
the woods yet."
"Yes, and it was fortunate that you had me bring in a specialist," the
first doctor commented. "I'm not sure what would have happened to
the boy if the neurosurgeon hadn't been here when this happened. I'm
not sure that I'd have known what to do, but now we both agree the
next twenty-four hours will be critical."
"I just want to thank both of you, but I also need to ask a favor